


Unexpected Apologies

by ScriboNunc



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Depression, F/M, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, Mental Health Issues, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Redeemed Draco Malfoy, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-04-17
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-01-15 09:36:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18496264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ScriboNunc/pseuds/ScriboNunc
Summary: A few years after the war Draco decides that as part of coping and moving on he should write letters of apology to the people he wronged at Hogwarts. This act leads places he never expected. He's a ball of self-loathing and anxiety, but maybe unexpected consequences of his letters will start to change that.





	1. To Hermione

**Author's Note:**

> Author's note:  
> This is my first ever fanfic. I welcome pointers and criticism as long as it's polite. I'm not 100% on the rating or the length. I'll get a better idea as the story continues. At the moment I don't have any kind of posting schedule, as I'm a working parent and have health issues that can be really tiring. So we shall see where this goes together.

Malfoys do not apologize. That was one of the first "Malfoy" lessons Draco had been taught by his parents. He could remember being five years old and breaking a valuable vase as he raced around a corner of the manor. His father came into the room to see what had made the crash, and at seeing the stern expression on his face Draco had immediately blurted out, "I'm sorry father. I didn't mean to, I swear. I'm sorry". His father had sat him down and explained that Malfoys do not say they are sorry because that is the same as admitting guilt, and Malfoys are not ever supposed to publicly acknowledge wrongdoing or flaws. He went on to explain that their family had an image to maintain, and that apologizing for anyone to hear would greatly reduce the power and intimidation in that carefully curated image. 

Draco's hand shook as he lowered the tip of his quill to the parchment. He hesitated, took a deep breath, then sighed and laid the quill back on the desk. He rested his head in his hands. He had lived down the hall from Voldemort and Fenrir Greyback, yet writing a letter was stirring a stronger reaction than half their actions had. Simply deciding who to write the first letter to had been an overwhelming decision - one that if he let his mind return to he would start second guessing. How should he even start the letter? Granger? Hermione? She had, unsurprisingly, married Weasley, so he supposed starting the letter "Granger" would not be appropriate. Would calling her Hermione come across as too familiar? After all, their relationship had entirely consisted of him bullying her. And that brought him back to the reason he had been chewing a hole through his lip and bouncing his leg under his desk anxiously all morning. 

For years Draco had followed his father's lesson on apologies, long enough to convince himself that he was not even capable of making mistakes. At Hogwarts he used Crabbe and Goyle as scapegoats so many times the fact they remained his friends throughout school proved how low their intelligence levels were. When he was late to class, well, he was not late at all - clearly the professor had thoughtlessly started early. When his cruel words made someone cry it was their own fault for being so sensitive. When Draco lost his team a quidditch game it was because the other seeker cheated. He took responsibility for nothing bad, but gave himself credit for everything good. He considered himself above other people because he was rich, despite the fact that he had not earned a knut of it himself. He was superior for his blood status, as though it was something he had any control over. 

Then the war happened, and everything Draco thought was right and wrong was flipped around. Everything he knew fell apart around him. When the war ended he realized he had a choice. He could repress all the doubts and realizations the war had brought up. He could blindly adhere to everything he was expected to believe in, like his father had after the first war with Voldemort, and probably end up just like his father. His other option was that he could accept that he did not know what to believe in any longer, and he could start over with nothing. He chose the latter. He chose to build his new philosophies, beliefs, and opinions from the ground up, this time not believing in something solely because he was told to, but based on evidence and rationality. 

It had become publicly apparent that Draco's views had changed. He made far better use of Malfoy money than his father ever had. He attended fundraisers for muggle-born projects and programs. He publicly supported bills that would make life easier for muggle-borns and protected muggles from wizardkind. At first most people seemed to assume these actions were to rebuild the Malfoy name and fix his reputation, but over time more had become convinced that if he actually held his old views he would never fake opinions like the ones he expressed. That just was not the Malfoy way. Whether his transformation meant he should be forgiven was a separate issue. Even though the people he had hurt probably all knew he had changed his views, Draco still felt he should apologize.

Draco's interactions with the people he planned to write apology letters to had been limited since the war. Harry Potter had testified that Draco had been under duress when he let Death Eaters into the school, and had told the story of Draco pretending he did not know it was Harry in the manor. After the trial Draco had mumbled an embarrassed thanks while staring at his feet before being swept away by his mother to avoid reporters and cameras. Since that day he had run into Harry, Ron, and Hermione at a few fundraisers and events, had spoken with Neville twice briefly, and had even worked alongside Harry and Ron on a couple of their auror cases. Draco had become a curse-breaker, and was quickly working up the ranks towards becoming one of the best in the United Kingdom. He had been at such a loss after his trial, feeling buried alive in guilt and regret and self-loathing. He came to realize the only way he could live with himself would be to do something good with his life. When called in by the aurors he had been excited that he had apparently built up enough trust to be allowed near any of their cases, but upon realizing he would have to work with Harry and Ron he had worried they would refuse to work with him. To his surprise, and relief, Harry and Ron had both been professional, a bit cold - not that he could blame them, but perfectly professional. 

After another case with both Harry and Ron, then a case with Ron and an auror Draco did not know, Draco decided that it was clearly time to make his apologies. He had been planning to for years, but so far had not been able to bring himself to send any. He had written a few out, but they never sounded sincere. Draco was still learning how to be vulnerable and express his feelings. But doing so with a mind healer in a private, confidential setting felt far different from doing it with people he had terribly wronged. How do you say, "So sorry I poisoned you. I only meant to poison our headmaster, who you dearly loved", and make it clear that you really are sorry? How do you apologize for repeatedly calling someone a word that they would eventually get carved into their arm? Words simply could not do his actions justice. Draco lifted his head out of his hands. Maybe that was where he should start, by acknowledging that his words were insufficient. He picked up his quill again and began:

_Hermione,_

_I want to start by saying I should have sent this letter years ago. It has taken me a while to learn how to apologize and humble myself. Each attempt I made to write this in the past seemed woefully inadequate. I have come to realize that my words will always be inadequate because the ways I wronged you were too great for a letter alone to fix, but that a letter would still be better than nothing. I hope this does not tear open healed wounds for you, as I have caused you too much pain already._

Draco paused again. He wanted to explain some of his upbringing, to explain why he had been so cruel at Hogwarts, without sounding like he was making excuses for himself. He realized he was chewing his lip again and stopped himself. He had been gaining a little more control over his anxious habits recently, but the stress of thinking about his mistakes was making all of them worse. He had already healed a bloody lip three times that day. 

_I am sorry. I am sorry for the foul name I called you again and again. I am sorry for the fact that you learned you were part of a brilliant new world, then were almost immediately made to feel unwelcome. I am sorry that I believed everything my father told me without questioning him. I am sorry for judging you based on something that had no bearing on your intelligence or character. I am sorry for mocking Hagrid, who I know was your friend. I am sorry for wishing you harm in second year. You were in genuine danger because of your heritage, and I was cruel and uncaring. I am sorry I bullied your two closest friends. I am sorry I tried to have the hippogriff hurt._

Draco took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. Writing was bringing up the intense self-hatred he usually managed to keep a dull pain in his chest as long as he did not think about the past for too long. Searching his mind for every way he had harmed Hermione Granger was bringing it back up to an overwhelming level. This was the real reason he had waited so long to finish an apology letter. He might tell himself it was because he was worried about his words not being enough or being believed to be insincere, but really it was his fear of feeling this way again and the dark place his mind went when overwhelmed by self-hate. He reminded himself that after the ways he had made other people feel he could push through this feeling a little longer. 

_I am more sorry than I can say. I was raised to believe that my blood status made me like royalty, that I was simply better - smarter, more magically powerful, more deserving. Clearly the intelligence part was incorrect because if being "pure blood" actually made me more intelligent I would have been questioning my parents' teachings and asking for proof long before I actually realized they were wrong. I hated muggles without ever having spent time in the muggle world or playing with a muggle child. I looked down on muggle-borns, yet I was bested in every subject by one (yes, I mean you), and my two pure-blood friends had the intelligence of flobberworms. Plenty of other people in Hogwarts shared my views, yet were not bullies. Even if I had not held the beliefs I did it is likely I still would have found some other reason to be a bully because I was closed off from empathy, needlessly cruel, and vicious._

__

Things that happened during the war are more complicated to apologize for. It is not that I do not feel bad about thing I did then, because I absolutely do, but more to do with the fact that my mother's life had been threatened. I had no excuse for my bullying behavior. It is harder to say that I am sorry about something that to this day I cannot how I could have avoided. With that said, standing and doing nothing while Bellatrix tortured you is one of my greatest regrets, and I have many things to regret. Maybe I would have died trying to stop her, but I still should have. There was a time I thought survival was more important than anything else. I have since realized that there are fates worse than death and that certain costs of survival are not worth it. When Bellatrix cut the word that I had said so many times into your arm I remember thinking, "Don't you see? You're writing that, but her blood is red. How do you not see that her blood is red, just like yours, just like anyone's?" I felt sick remembering every time I had said that word to you. I realized I had probably left a scar in your mind just as Bellatrix had left on your arm, that I was no better than her.

I am not writing to ask for your forgiveness. I have not forgiven myself for my actions so I do not know why you would either. It was long past time I told you I was wrong. I genuinely hope the life you have now brings you happiness. The work you do in the magical community makes our small world a much better place. It proves wrong everyone who thinks only those with certain backgrounds belong. You are an impressive woman. I wish I had seen that sooner. 

Sincerely,  
Draco Malfoy

Draco slumped against the back of his chair with a shaky sigh. He felt drained, exhausted and raw. He was clearly going to need to take a break before taking on the next letter. He debated whether he should send Hermione's letter right away or if he should wait until he had written every letter and send them at once. If she got her letter well ahead of the others she would likely mention to Weasley, and quite possibly Potter, that she had gotten it. He did not want them to think she was the only one he thought he needed to apologize to. No, he would send them together once he finished the others.


	2. Luna Lovegood

The idea that he needed to go down the list of everyone he had wronged in Hogwarts in order to apologize had struck Draco around a year and a half earlier. He had been shopping in a bookstore, and lost in the options and blinded by the large stack of books in his arms Draco had stumbled right into a small someone, scattering their armful of books. He had bent to help gather the dropped books while repeatedly apologizing for his absentmindedness, then, looking up to see who his clumsiness had disturbed, was startled and shaken to meet the eyes of Luna Lovegood. 

Memories of her pale, sad face looking up from the manor dungeon shot to the foreground of his mind. Standing in the bookshop Luna had pink-tinged cheeks from the cold outside, bright eyes, and soft, neat hair. Draco's mind was having trouble keeping the past and present separate, though. That happened to him far too often, where he would look down a street and see both the present bustling state and the war-time boarded up, solemn, frightened air flickering back and forth until he was no longer sure which was now and which was then. 

Draco could see the Luna in the warmth and coziness of the bookshop and the Luna who was too slender and shrinking more every day, yet shared her small portions of food with the other prisoners. In Hogwarts she had been called Loony Luna and mocked for her odd beliefs, yet as a prisoner in a dungeon she had conducted herself with more dignity than Draco had at any point. The wealth and blood status he had always valued could not make up for the shame and indignity of being controlled and manipulated, of having his home overrun, of watching his father crawl and beg and fawn at Voldemort's feet. 

All those thoughts had flashed through Draco's mind in an instant before he gathered himself as much as possible and falteringly said, "Lo-Lovegood!" He felt he should say something else too, but his thoughts seemed frozen in his head. Luna looked at him wide-eyed at first, then solemnly, "Hello, Draco. You're in a muggle bookshop. It's good to see you are leaving behind your old bigotry". He let out a nervous laugh. He should not have expected any different from Lovegood; of course she would get right to the most personal topic. She did not seem the sort of person to waste time on small talk and meaningless chatter. Draco supposed there was no harm in being open with her, "Yes, I've been trying to learn as much muggle history as I can. Also their novels tend to be far better and more varied than ours." Luna nodded, "So much of muggle history is fascinating. Do you know how long ago they were making sex toys? They used to carve them from stone." Draco felt himself go red and stuttered a bit, "Um, right, uh, that's um ... ". One thing about his upbringing he had yet to shake was the conservative attitude towards sex.

Luna smiled mildly, then went on as though she had not just brought up sex toys to someone who was basically a stranger, "Have you read about the holocaust? I would think that would be very difficult and painful, but also meaningful to learn about". Draco's mind flashed back to the first time he saw the holocaust mentioned in a history book. He had been disgusted and horrified by the things described, and his curiosity as to how it had come about had led him to autobiographies and more detailed histories of the event. He had spent the next couple of weeks barely leaving his room, crying and falling apart over stories by concentration camp survivors. Draco had not realized until that point just how much guilt and pain he was burying over the things he had witnessed during the war. The stories he read had been like taking a potion that suddenly gave him a healthy dose of empathy, and that led to feeling for the muggles and muggle-borns he had seen and learned about being tortured and killed in a way he previously had not. That had led to a level of self-destruction that had Draco's mind healer giving him the choice between St Mungo's and only reading a little at a time to properly process his emotions. 

Draco felt a hand on his arm, bringing his mind back to the present. Luna was looking up at him with concern, something he felt he certainly did not deserve from her. "I'm sorry, that clearly brought back very painful memories", she said, "I've been told I don't ease into topics enough. I shouldn't shock people with trauma." "You don't ever need to apologize to me", Draco responded, feeling decidedly uncomfortable that Luna was saying she was sorry about something so small when he had yet to do the same about far more serious things. "You don't need to feel so guilty. I don't see any way you could have helped me without getting killed", Luna said, leaving Draco feeling disconcerted and wondering if she was a legilimens. "I don't have just that to feel bad for, Luna. I said many cruel things to you in school, as did my friends while I laughed along. And I was skilled at occlumency. I might have been able to help you and hide it", Draco rebutted. Luna stared him in the eye with a serious expression for a moment then said, "Let's sit down and talk". 

What followed was a lengthier than intended discussion about Draco's upbringing and how it influenced his behavior and a back-and-forth on how much responsibility he should bear for his behavior. He wound up apologizing to Luna multiple times for multiple wrong doings, which she very solemnly granted him forgiveness for. Draco went home feeling lighter and freer than he had in a long time. He would have expected going over his past mistakes to be depressing, as it was when he did it alone in his head, but doing it while apologizing to someone he had hurt was a relief. Luna was more insightful, empathetic, and wise than he could have guessed. When Draco returned to his rooms he made a list of everyone he felt he owed apologies to. The ones he knew would be most difficult for him were Granger, Ron, Potter, Katie Bell, and Madam Rosmerta. Rosmerta was the one that turned his stomach the most. He had essentially cut a year from her life since she spent that much time under imperious, plus Draco had used her to harm other people. It was true his family's lives had been under threat, but that did not mean Draco was excused in harming so many people in his mission to harm one person. 

Draco had returned to his list regularly over the next year and a half, sometimes composing mental letters, sometimes writing out his thoughts on paper. Most of his physical attempts he burned as rubbish, but he held onto some for notes. He hated himself for the fact that it had taken so long to finally finish a letter, even though his counselor reminded him frequently that he was taking time to process his past, which was allowed. A couple of weeks after his run-in with Luna Draco had been put on a case that Ron Weasley was working. Ron had been silent for the most part, as he usually was around Draco, but had been throwing glances his way all day with a scrutinizing expression. Towards the end of Draco's role in the case Ron finally spoke up and said, "Luna mentions she ran into you in a shop - a muggle shop". "Yes, I was in muggle London", Draco had left his response brief, unsure what else Luna had mentioned. Ron had simply leveled an assessing look at him, said, "Hm, alright", and left it at that. Draco had been unable to tell whether Ron had been surprised by that piece of information. 

Presently Draco was fiddling with a pen and staring at the blank sheet of parchment on the desk in front of him. He took a deep breath and started:

_Ronald Weasley._


	3. Panic at the Museum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter mentions self-harm and has detailed description of a panic attack. 
> 
> I'll provide warnings like this on any chapter that contains potentially triggering material. If I ever miss a trigger that needs a note let me know.

Writing the letter to Ron had left Draco feeling emotionally drained and physically exhausted from the surge of feelings released by his visit to the past. He was currently lounging against his bed's many pillows staring up at the grey canopy overhead, and trying to think of anything he might have left out. He had focused on his frequent mockery of Ron's poverty and the poisoning incident. Draco had explained how envious he once was of Ron's big, loving, closely-knit family. His own parents had so often been cold and aloof, and had discouraged emotional intimacy or any talk of feelings. He had been taught that money was everything, yet it had not provided Draco with affection or encouragement from his family. He had resented Ron for obviously having those things in spite of having no money. It had called into question his parents' teachings, something Draco always responded to harshly as a child. Draco had also added apologies for his role in Ron's brother Bill being injured by Greyback. He knew he had said many snide and vicious things in school, but nothing had stood out in his mind as strongly as the poverty and poisoning. 

Draco wondered what the Weasley family was like now. After losing Fred did they fall apart, become separate islands of grief? Or did their grief bond them together, bringing them closer in support of one another? He wondered what it would be like to have family to lean on, to talk to, shoulders to cry on. Draco was unsure if he was even capable of being vulnerable enough with someone to cry on their shoulder. He tried to imagine going to his mother and releasing all of his guilt and shame and disgust with himself. She might comfort him or she might tell him to be more dignified and learn to better control his emotions. It was hard to tell which way things would go with her. Draco knew she loved him and cared about his happiness, but at the same time her upbringing and lifetime of aloofness and repression were habits she was nowhere close to breaking. After all, his mother had been maintaining her facade far longer than he had, and he found it bloody difficult to change his ways. Draco sighed deeply and shifted on his bed. It did not matter how his mother would react to him going to her for support because he knew he never would. She had a hard enough time dealing with all the horrors that had happened in their home, that her own husband had put them through, without him adding his own pain to her burden. 

As a child Draco had imagined many times what it might be like to grow up as part of a family like the Weasley's. At the time it was one of his greatest sources of shame. Imagining being part of a family that he was taught to consider so far beneath him in a daydreaming way would have incurred much wrath from his father. It was a pointless endeavor, however, as Draco had no experiences to draw from to help him picture what affection, fun, teasing, and openly expressed love would feel like to be part of. Draco could feel himself sinking into a depressed state of mind, like being sucked down to the bottom of the sea by a whirlpool, with the weight of the water above pressing down and crushing. If he stayed in bed he knew it would reach a depth that he would struggle to drag himself out of for days. 

Going out sounded like a healthy distraction, but Draco was usually deterred from leaving the manor for anything besides work by the judgmental stares, whispers, and sometimes outright hostility that followed him. On good days he could ignore the hate directed at him, but considering he had spent the morning thinking about his worst mistakes and traits, Draco did not feel emotionally equipped to deal with being out in the magical community. He was fairly certain if he stepped foot in Diagon Alley his day would end with him sitting on his bathroom floor watching his arm bleed. Just thinking about it made Draco's left arm itch to be opened, to release his guilt a drop of blood at a time. He shot up from his pillows, swung his legs over the side of his bed, took a deep, shuddering breath, then stood and walked to his closet. He would go to a library or museum in the muggle world. That way he could be away from the temptation to punish himself while also avoiding the judgment he knew he deserved, but still hated. 

There was still much of the muggle world that Draco was curious about, but had yet to explore. So much of it was unfamiliar to him, and he was afraid of making a fool of himself. Plus, setting out to explore without a guide, or even an also clueless companion to blunder and fumble alongside, was unappealing. Some experiences were just better shared. Draco was reminded of his aching loneliness, the nights it felt like his heart was being crushed by all the things he wished he could talk to someone about, the conversations he had with himself because there was no one else to have them with. He scoffed to himself over the fact that the only person who listened to him and helped him through his feelings was someone he paid to. This happened regularly - Draco being in the middle of a task, such as getting dressed to go out, then sinking so deep into his mind he lost awareness of what was going on around him, or even of what he himself was doing. His therapist told him it was because of how much he repressed his feelings and doubts as a child, that doing so trained his mind to separate from situations. She taught him about trauma and how it changes the way the mind processes and reacts to things. It amazed Draco how much muggles had figured out about the mind - things that wizardkind tended to be clueless about. 

Finally shaking himself out of his reverie enough to finish dressing, Draco grabbed his wand from his nightstand, pocketed some muggle money, and disapparated. He popped up behind a building a couple of blocks from the Science Museum. He had been once before and knew there was enough there for at least a dozen more visits. As he strolled towards the museum Draco thought back to his first forays into science and technology. He had been overwhelmed, thrilled, confused, and a little bit frightened by the realization that he knew so very little about the world. It had struck him that that must be what learning about magic was like for muggle-born children. Learning about the muggle world was difficult and overwhelming, and Draco was able to do that on his own time without pressure. Muggle-borns had to learn as they went. They were thrown headfirst into the world of magic, with no preparation, then mocked for the things they did not know. Draco recognized more ways he had been privileged was a child all the time. 

Draco arrived at the museum, and minutes later was slowly making his way from exhibit to exhibit, his mind now far from his troubles. He looked around at the other visitors and wondered if they ever stopped at marveled at their inventions the way he did, or if they were so used to them they barely thought about them anymore. The lights in the building alone were enough to impress Draco and bring a thousand questions to mind. He had so, so many questions about the muggle world and not enough time to read all the books he would need to finish to be able to satisfy his curiosity. Picking which questions to research sometimes brought on so much indecisiveness that Draco would walk away without making a choice. He moved along to the next display while still staring at the one he was leaving and stumbled into someone. "I'm sorry, I wasn't looking where I was going", Draco said, embarrassed about his absentmindedness. The man turned to look at him, and Draco felt as though his stomach had dropped to his feet in shock. 

"Malfoy! I, erm, hello. I didn't expect to see you here", Harry Potter looked at him wide-eyed. Draco's mouth felt dry and his palms felt the opposite. Every time he had seen Harry since the war it had been expected - he could prepare himself. They had seen each other at Ministry functions, through work, and at various events. Running into Harry, literally as it were, so unexpectedly had thrown Draco's anxiety to peak levels. His ears seemed to buzz, his tongue felt thick and dry, the room suddenly felt like it was pressing on him on all sides. "Yes, I like museums", Draco finally managed to blurt out, feeling rather stupid. No matter how much his lungs pulled in and pushed out it felt as though he was not getting any air. "Have you been to this one before? I came a few weeks ago and loved it. Science is amazing. I sometimes wonder what we could achieve if we combined magic and science", Draco was speaking without intending to. He was hardly aware of what he was saying. Was he saying completely stupid things? He might be, he had already forgotten his own words. He felt as though the floor was plummeting. 

Draco tried to focus on Harry's face. He was looking a little puzzled and wary, but curious too. "I imagine to someone not used to it muggle science and technology probably feels like magic the way magic does to muggle-borns", Harry replied. He stared intently at Draco, as though trying to find something in his fact. "That's exactly what I thought when I first came here", Draco said. He hoped he did not sound as breathless as he felt. An invisible hand seemed to be pressing against his throat. His felt were going numb, "I wondered if that was what learning about magic felt like". Was he making sense? He was no longer sure. What he was saying could be perfectly normal or utter nonsense. He was too far gone to have any idea which it was. Draco felt impossibly dizzy and gripped the table next to him. Harry was looking at him as though surprised by him, though Draco could not remember whether he had said anything surprising. "I, I think I'm late for an appointment. It was good to see you", Draco all but ran before Harry could respond. 

Finally out of the building, Draco leaned against the wall and slumped forward, hands on his knees, trying to gulp in lungfuls of air. He was so anxious he felt as though he might cry. "Please don't cry, please don't cry", he muttered under his breath. He hated his mind so much in that moment. Why could it not cooperate? There was no danger, he knew that rationally, but knowing had no effect on how he felt. He was coming close to hyperventilating he was breathing so desperately now. Draco felt a hand on his shoulder. He snapped his head up to see Harry looking at him with what he might have described as cautious concern. "You're having a panic attack. Do you need help getting somewhere? I can side-along if you need. Or if there's someone I could get?" Harry trailed off, his hand still on Draco's shoulder. Draco could not help but recall a bathroom where Harry finding Draco in distress had happened so differently. So much had happened since then. "I've had them before. I'll be fine, just need a minute", He responded, after a bit of a delay. He did desperately want to be back home, and he was in no shape to be apparating, but he did not feel comfortable accepting Harry's help after everything. 

Harry looked into his eyes intensely for a moment, then waved his hand over them while muttering a spell Draco could not quite hear, moved his hand from his shoulder to grip Draco's arm, and next thing Draco knew they were standing at the gates of the manor. "I figured you weren't going to ask for help for me, but I also knew you probably wanted to be home while feeling like this", Harry said. "Sorry for not warning you first, but like I said, I figured you'd say no". Harry gave a small smile and shrugged. "Do you need help getting inside or will you be alright from here?" Harry asked. Draco already felt calmer just from having his home in sight and being away from the crowds. "I can make it inside on my own", He said honestly. Harry nodded as though he had expected that answer and started to turn away. "Well, erm, I hope you get to feeling better", He rubbed the back of his head, rumpling the already messy hair there even more. Awkwardness seemed to be setting in now that he felt assured that Draco would be alright. "Thanks", Draco replied, turning to open the gate to give his hands something to do. 

Harry turned to disapparate, and Draco suddenly turned back to him, saying, "Wait!" Harry turned his head, eyebrows up, looking surprised. "Just, thank you", Draco forced out uncomfortably. "I appreciate you bringing me home. Oh, wait! I almost forgot, you disapparated right in front of the muggles!" Harry looked genuinely shocked by the gratitude. It made Draco feel like dirt for having been the sort of person gratitude would be shocking to hear come from. Harry shook his head, "Don't worry, the muggles didn't see anything. Handy couple of spells." Draco nodded, relieved. He really should not have been worried. Harry was an auror and knew better than to break the statute. "Well, thank you again. I'll see you around, Potter", Draco said. Harry nodded at him in acknowledgment, still looking thrown by the thanks, then turned and was gone. Draco took a steadying breath and set off down the path to his house. It was time to write Harry's letter.


	4. Update

Quick update regarding status of my story:  
I'm in a really tough spot financially at the moment, and because of that am currently living in a motel. It happens to have really spotty and insanely slow internet, so updating isn't always easy. I'm also working to get out of my current situatiom, which leaves little time for hobbies. I have not given up on my story, and I have ideas for a few short stories, I just can't make promises as to when new posts will happen. Hopefully I will not be in this situation for long, but at this point I have no idea. Thanks for patience while I work this out.


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